


To Steal a Little Peace

by EvoFTG



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: How Do I Tag, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, better late than never amirite, late to the bandwagon, my summary sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvoFTG/pseuds/EvoFTG
Summary: On lonely nights, Prince Sidon searches for company.





	To Steal a Little Peace

They come prepared, Sidon is shamefully aware of that.  


At least, he does. He can carry very little provisions but a small bottle clipped discreetly to his sash will hardly affect his swiftness in the water.  


Link, on the other hand, will not find himself lacking. He is geared for travelling, but he is brimming with supplies and necessities as if he intends to set up a shop somewhere: Cooked food, raw food, spare weapons, precious gemstones, all packed on his horse when he is not able to carry on his own person. And he carries a lot on his own small person – weapons, all of them. He is more armed to the teeth than Sidon is, who is usually content with a sword belted to his side.  


Whether or not Link prepares the needs for _that_ purpose is anyone’s guess.  


They meet at riverbanks, usually, naturally. They never plan these encounters, welcomed though they are – Link is too busy, too unpredictable, his passage too fleeting – but Sidon has always taken upon his shoulders to patrol the important waterways within Lanayru region. Lately, the Bokoblins and Moblins are getting braver, the Lizalfos trickier. Sooner or later, they would meet (Sidon will sometime fantasize that Link is looking out for his glimpses, taking note of his routes and set to waiting where he can be expected to appear, but of course this is just wishful thinking, it _cannot_ be more than just wishful thinking) and campfire will burn, cooking pot steaming with delicious-smelling stews. Link’s recipe is always a delight, but after a while he notices that the Hylian always cook something fish-based if he is around – his favourite. A simple thank-you, perhaps, spoken without needing to be said; the long roads travelled alone can be painful and dismaying. Sidon hopes his company on nights where they meet can heal the Hero’s loneliness, even if a little.  


Or maybe he is deceiving himself. Maybe he is being selfish, after all, no matter how hard he tries not to be.  


Maybe, deep down, it is his own loneliness he seeks to quench.  


That was how it started, at first.  


Link can speak, he knows this, but whether by birth or experience, he says very little, almost to the point of muteness. But in sign language that Sidon has never been more grateful having the foresight to learn, he watched as the fingers moved in purpose.  


_I want you._  


He has been more than delighted. If he died right then, he would have died a happy Zora. He said that it is likewise, more enthusiastically than his princely demeanours would have allowed, but for Link he would willingly make an exception – that he too, ‘wants’ Link.  


He never tells that he _needs_ Link, oh no. That will destroy this peaceful middle-ground that they have stumbled upon, the only place he can find a little peace. His last sanctuary, barring his own mind. Lately, even his own mind is a prison. Sidon satisfies himself with what he can have and locks the rest of it deep in himself. Let it die there and rot, unbeknownst to anyone. He hopes that this is the case, even if he will turn the inside of his own head into a wasteland of discarded emotions. He needs to be strong for his people, for his father, for the memories of his beloved sister.  


But Link is stronger still, and he is ashamed to seek refuge in his presence. Those small shoulders bear the burden the width and breadth of Hyrule.  


Tonight, it happens again.  


Link never asks and neither does Sidon. Their closeness speaks what their tongues don’t. Fresh from joint raids into the Bokoblin camps and saving a traveller or two in the process, he and Link has retired to the riverbank of Zora River and enjoyed the Hylian’s ever-tasty meal, this time of Creamy Seafood Soup, and laid down beside near the remaining campfire to share in the heat. Well, Link needs the heat to ward off the night’s chill, while Sidon is there for the closeness with the little Hylian.  


They never ask.  


Sidon needs him, but still. He _cannot_ breach the trust.  


Somehow, he must have communicated… _something._ The Hylian looks up seemingly out of nowhere, clear blue eyes recognizable anywhere in Hyrule to the Zora prince, and he understands. He moves closer, his small, lean form a stark contrast against Sidon, his training-calloused, strong hand searching for Sidon’s claw-fingered limb. He finds it, grasps it in silent inquiry for permission and there is no way Sidon can answer anything else but yes, yes and yes.  


He _burns_ with need right then.  


The Hylian stands up and beckons towards a line of trees, underneath which is fairly covered in bushes. Sidon nods in understanding, gills flaring futilely for air, and lets himself be tugged towards where Link chooses. In a few moments, he feels his back smacked against a sturdy tree trunk, his tall form writhing underneath the unfairly soft caresses of Hylian fingertips, searching his sides and hips. Already he is unravelled. Already he begins to make noises absolutely unbecoming for a Zora royalty.  


He cannot care less.  


His short, stout legs tremble and buckle underneath the weight of his hunger. Link touches him in patterns he understands – under his knees, so he straightens them and lets himself fall on his haunch. A push to the inner thighs, so he spreads them apart eagerly, letting the tree behind him to take his weight. Link sneaks between them, placing himself securely where Sidon will not be able to keep his modesty. Fingers stroke the white portion of his legs where the hide is much smoother than his ruby-red hide – and much more sensitive, as well. Link bends down; touch his lips to the sapphire that adorns his silver-wrought belt, coaxing a moan of need from the shark prince’s throat but still denying him the relief of Link’s touch. Sidon is madly jealous of the gemstone, watching helplessly as Link mouths and licks the inanimate object while Sidon strains to have his person touched in similar manners.  


Then, without warning, the flatness of a tongue drags from where his belt lies and across his flat stomach. Sidon moans loud enough to be easily mistaken for pain.  


Link grabs his hips, pushing him down. For such a petite body, he is surprisingly strong and forceful. Sidon’s body is laid before him for his enjoyment – to view, to kiss, to touch, it does not matter. He kisses where a navel will be on a Hylian, tongue swirling teasingly around non-existent hollow that makes Sidon wishes of possessing one. He grazes his teeth upwards until he reaches the level of Sidon’s lowest set of side-gills, changes to kisses again as far as he can reach by stretching himself which is the middle of Sidon’s chest, then travels downward again – tongue all the way. After a while, he crawls atop Sidon, straddling the strong hips and deliberately resting himself so his body is fully supported by the Zora prince under him.  


Sidon whimpers, his lower body moving on its own accord to find some sort of friction to relieve the tightness building between his legs. Link only hums to acknowledge his need but does nothing about it, instead nuzzling himself against the broad chest in front of him. When Sidon’s gasps become tinged with a low crooning, Link brings his hands forward and kneads the muscled torso – tracing the contours of bones and muscles, gently teasing the flaps of his gills whenever he strays to the side and making Sidon chuckles through his breaths. His hips buck involuntarily once in a while, and Link will still be seated firmly where he should be when Sidon gains control of himself. The Hylian leans forward and rests chest-to-chest with his Zora lover, bracing himself on the armoured shoulders for support and kissing the delicate jawline above him, a soft, curved line that bears the hint of slimness natural to the general Zora but which Sidon’s toned build hides. Sidon’s eyes flutter with the soft pleasure of lips flirting with the corners of his mouth; they must be losing most of their golds now as his black pupils dilate. He regrets that he has too-sharp teeth that can cut through flesh like heated knife through butter – he wants to feel what it is like to kiss like Hylians do. But he will _not_ risk it with his lovely Link and satisfies himself with these mock-kisses.  


Sometimes, Sidon has an overwhelming urge to fill the Hylian’s mouth with his tongue, but that cannot be comfortable to Link. He cannot risk upsetting his precious Hylian and loses his company. He _cannot._  


Feeling rather shamefully useless, Sidon threads his clawed fingers carefully through Link’s soft, golden hair, twisting a digit into the locks and revelling in the silken texture that slips off all too easily. 

His other hand cups the small of Link’s back to keep him in place and to massage the body he so loves. However, his fingertips meet shifting fabric rather than bare skin.  


Link is still wearing clothes, how very _unfair._  


He sets to remedy that immediately, carefully tugging at the tunic so as not to tear into it with his claws – sharp enough to rend flesh and the woods of Bokoblin shields – but forcefully enough to let Link knows his intention. Link pulls back a little, giving room for Sidon to pull it off him and helping the progress by raising his arms. Once that done and the tunic is tossed aside, Sidon makes a pleased sound in his throat at the bared torso atop him, though the sight does not last. Link dives again, attacking the underside of his jaws and the overhanging side-fins, sucking and nibbling. Sidon resigns himself to the shameful whimpers that cannot be held back. He wants Link to know how much he enjoys Link’s attention, how thankful he is to be worthy of Link’s trust to share his night with.  


Instincts of battle-wary fighters make them stop suddenly, though at first they don’t know why they are alarmed. Craning his neck, his pointed ears twitching, Link places a finger on his own lips and directs his eye towards the rise and fall of the land beyond the bush that conceals them. The hoofbeats of horses, unknown if they are stalhorses or living ones, whether they are ridden by friends or foes – wild ones normally move little after dusk. After a while waiting in silence, horses and riders reveal themselves as they crest over a gentle slope, both of flesh-and-blood, the riders evidently Hylian travellers. Their progress halts as they begin talking to each other in low voices that neither Link nor Sidon manages to hear. Sidon prays with all of his being that they have no reason to approach either the bush or the empty camp – he does not want Link’s belongings to be stolen, nor to have their unwanted curiousity aroused at the sight of an apparently deserted fire but with all the signs of occupation. Worse still, and Sidon is sure that he will have to renounce his royalty title if it ever does come to pass, is if they come towards where he and Link lay in an incriminating position and discover a Zora and a Hylian in the middle of intimate moments. He is not ashamed of having a Hylian partner, but this tryst is not a behaviour fit for a prince. There will be gossips, scandals and never-ending questions – mostly from his own fan club, he suspects.  


Somehow, the very thought of being discovered causes his stomach to clench with dread and… something else, but the sensations shoot straight to the apex of his legs, electrifying his nerves into maddening ache.  


He gasps, a tad too loudly than the background noises of the night.  


Link gives him a warning glare, but it is a little too late.  


Both riders sit up straighter in their saddles, looking left and right for the source of the noise. In terms of fighting, they are mere travellers capable only defending themselves against low-ranked Bokoblins and none whatsoever against the likes of Link and Prince Sidon, but that is beside the point. They are civilians – he cannot raise his weapons against them, a principle that Link holds on to as well. The glint of Traveller Swords appear side-saddle as the owners withdraw them from their scabbards, though with his Zora’s sensitive eyes Sidon can see that the blades quiver from unsteady holds.  


Link, his face contorting with resolve, pushes himself up so he will sit straighter atop Sidon. He puffs out his chest and draws in a deep breath. He brings his hands to his mouth, cupping them together to form a funnel and lets out a long, shrill, remarkably authentic-sounding howl of a Maraudo wolf. Even Sidon reflexively clasps his hands over the side-fins tightly.  


Astonishingly (and luckily), the horses, if not the riders, are convinced enough of the imitation that they begin to neigh and toss their heads anxiously. This proves enough to shatter the travellers’ bravado, who whirl their steeds around and spur them out of sight as fast as the horses are capable of galloping. Very soon, the only things left of them are the clouds of dust kicked up in horses’ flight and the hoofbeats fading in the distance. A few more seconds and even those are no longer perceivable by the still-hidden Link and Sidon.  


Freshly saved from extreme embarrassment, with adrenaline still running high through their veins, Link levels another reprimanding glare at the Zora prince.  


_You’re too loud,_ he signs; apparently the howl has spent the daily quota on his vocal usage for now. Sheepishly and with pinkish blush blossoming on his white cheeks, Sidon apologizes.  


_We should do something about that,_ he signs again but there is now a new look on his face that sends another tingling wave from his belly to his crotch, which is now not as featureless as it is a before the travellers’ appearance.  


The devilry he glimpses playing behind the clear blue eyes make him whine loudly and his lower body wiggle with refreshed awareness of his desperation. He can feel his own body preparing to open itself to the world, which at the moment is occupied by no one else but Link.  


The Hylian arches a brow smugly, as though to say, _See what I mean?_  


He reaches out and tugs at the silk cravat, fastened in place by Sidon’s choker regalia. Confused as to his intention but understanding what is expected, his hands work deftly through the intricate metal clasps that unlock the silver choker and the metal-wired collar from his throat, laying it bare to Link’s admiring touches. The loosened cravat slips off easily after that, smooth to touch and damp from his swimming. Link accepts the silk-cloth, running it through his fingers thoughtfully as if playing around with ideas in his mind until the pointed look returns on Sidon. The smirk he gives is too alluring, too wickedly charming, that the prince finds himself crooning needily yet again. The slender Hylian fingers work slowly but surely, folding and crumpling the silk into thick layers upon themselves until it is about the size of his fist.  


His gentle hand caresses the side of the shark-prince’s face, his thumb brushing against the surprisingly soft edge of Sidon’s mouth: A request to open. Sidon does so, but his eyes widen in disbelief when the balled silk-cloth is shoved unceremoniously between his jaws, sliding easily into place and held firmly there by his own sharp teeth despite the panicked push of his tongue from inside. The shocked cries turn into muffled grunts; his naked throat ripples with the echoes of his imprisoned voice that fails to breach the silky filters. He is only able to silence his frightened noises when he is made to look downward by the Hylian’s hands pulling him downward. Only then he notices that Link has left the rest of him free, that he can easily pull out the gag if he so wishes.  


Link tilts his head in a clear inquiry for his well-being. Their encounters are incredibly varied, given the limitedness of the opportunities. Sometimes, Link can be rough; other times playful and mischievous; and yet other instances will see him as a gentle lover that puts to mind of romantics told in the old fairy tales he used to find in the library. Whatever moods he is in, Sidon can be assured that he will never be cruel or senseless to his needs – a thought that finally enables him to relax despite the awkwardness of his silence. He strokes through Link’s lush hair, at once conveying to Link his reassurance and showing him that he does not forget about the limbs that remain at his service. To this, Sidon is awarded with a peck to his cheek and an achingly sweet smile that tugs at his heartstrings as much as it does to the neglected nerves in his lower body.  


The whine that results seems to be the needed cue for the Hylian, who slides down Sidon’s body to regain his place between his legs. Sidon is very aware how pronounced the bulge of his vent may appear right now, which only serves to arouse him further. The emergence of his members are thus inevitable, especially when Link is focusing on his crotch so intently that he may as well pull them out by his hands – two of them, in fact, as is normal for his people though with the blood of royal Zora that results in his larger-than-average stature, his members are likewise scaled-up accordingly to proportion. Slick from his body’s natural lubricant that fills his slit and twitching with needs unfulfilled, sensitized by the sudden exposure to the dusk-cool air after the warmth of its confinement.  


However, they are not Sidon’s concerns when he is with Link, who has no problem whatsoever to pleasuring him that way. Even now, he asks with his unblinking stare from behind the twin erections, his fingers gently tracing the subtle veins along the lengths.  


Sidon shakes his head, the shark-tail waggling with the movement. He wants the other sort of fulfilment and he has been teased enough as it is to delay it any longer. Link’s fingertips trail downward, pushing at the base of the members where they are co-joined to give better access to the rest of his slit. The muscles lining his cloaca quivers when prodded, sending the prince’s body arching with delight and his claws scrabbling to keep himself anchored, leaving deep gouges into the dirt. This is the treasure that he gives to no one else but for the very person that is teasing him into a broken moan behind the gag of his silk cravat. He feels himself parted by eager fingers, tested with increasing girths of more and more fingers; sliding, teasing and feeling for familiar territory within, driving his hips to move with their rhythms.  


Sidon fumbles with his sash, following the length of the cloth until he finds the small bottle clipped to it. He retrieves it with shaking fingers and grunts loudly, catching the blond’s attention who is diligently working him loose for his entry. There have been times when they are in too much hurry to allow for suitable preparation that leave both of them wanting for each other. This is when the thick, clear liquid contained in the bottle can come in handy, though Sidon guesses that they have done more than enough to resort to extra lubrication other than his body naturally provides this time. In answer, Link withdraws the three fingers he has been using - to Sidon’s frustrated gasps – and shows the results to Sidon. The vacated channel ripple angrily, wanting them back inside.  


Sidon is more than ready for his lovely Hylian and they both know it.  


When exactly Link has gotten down his trousers, Sidon has no idea. All that he knows is that suddenly, his legs are lifted and set to rest on Link’s shoulders. Reflexively, he braces himself on the tree behind him – one hand claws into the bark above him, the other wraps around the trunk as far as he can and dig in his talons – and crosses his webbed feet on Link’s back, the silver bangles around his ankles clanging melodiously against each other. Trapped in a position that he has no intention of leaving, Link eagerly sinks to his knees and guides himself to Sidon’s entrance, tender from lack of use but wet and open to accept him.  


In one swift thrust, Link obliges the Zora prince’s craving. For them, the night has only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first work on AO3 will be the product of random shower thoughts, go figure. Forgive me.  
> I have no idea what I'm doing with this not-really-fic-not-really-drabble. Un-beta'd, so I'm sorry for the mistakes, I try to correct them when I see them.


End file.
